All Saints, 2015
01/11/15 04:52
The Protestant reformation produced some forms of severe reaction against the pomp and ceremony of the Roman church. Some of the reformers rejected extravagances of organs and processions and incense and elaborate vestments. There was a general rejection of the overburdened calendar of saints’ days in favor of a simpler form of worship and faith. As is true with most human endeavors there are always a few extremes in both direction. The elaborate and pompous high Baroque cathedrals with some of the most expensive organs created in their time were places for grand processions and recessions with all of the pomp and ceremony the church could muster. The severe and stark Calvinist churches, some without any musical instruments stood in stark contrast.
Our particular strain of church history has often stood a bit to the so-called “low church” end of that spectrum. We haven’t gone in for too much in terms of statuary and vestment. On the other hand, we have an appreciation for good music and have collected valuable instruments and hired good musicians.
In our corner of the tradition All Saints Day is an optional festival. The lectionary of readings gives alternates for the day, with a set of readings for the observation of All Saints and another set for the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost in the season we call “ordinary.” Some of our congregations will observe All Saints day, others will not.
The tradition of All Saints observances in our congregation is not long standing. We have placed more emphasis on the holiday in recent years influenced, no doubt, by the ecumenical bible study in which I participate. As I discuss the readings with Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian and Episcopal colleagues, we also discuss the worship and practices of our congregations. One of my colleagues recently commented, “What better evidence of a good and gracious God than the people we get to know in the church?”
For many congregations All Saints has evolved into a kind of memorial day, when those who have died in the past year are remembered. In our congregation, we print the names of those who have died on Memorial weekend in May and, in recent years, we have adopted the practice of showing their pictures on All Saints Day.
We also sing. There are two beloved all saints hymns: “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” and “For All the Saints.” I’ve blogged about the former in other years, but I think that “For All the Saints” is sung even more often in our congregation.
The hymn, dating back to the late 19th century, has been sung to several different tunes, but in our congregation, the tune by Ralph Vaughn Williams, called Sine Nominee (“without name”), is associated with the hymn. It is common for our organist to play that tune as the first song of the postlude at funerals. We have associated that song not so much with the grief of loss as with the triumph of resurrection.
The song was composed as a processional, and probably fits well with a high church tradition. The text, written by an Anglican Bishop, William Waltham How, has eleven verses and often is sung in unison to enable choirs and church leaders to process while singing. The tune is nearly a march in structure and makes walking easy. The repeated Alleluias at the end of each verse brings a triumphant note to the song. There are verses celebrating Saints, Apostles, Soldiers, Evangelists, and Martyrs, as well as verses celebrating the communion of all who have served, verses describing God’s assistance of humans, and the struggles of this life, all capped by a glorious trinitarian formula: “Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost: Alleluia, Alleluia!”
It is a glorious hymn and we will be singing it this morning as well as hearing it sung as we show the pictures of those of our congregation who have died in the past year. It isn’t an easy moment for our congregation. Grief involves pain and brings tears to our eyes. We don’t take the loss of loved ones lightly. But worship isn’t always about choosing the easiest path.
In an adaptation of the celebrations of previous years, this year’s remembrance is embedded in the celebration of communion with special words to place our recollections in context of the life of our community. The words of the hymn remind us that we remain connected with those who have died:
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
I don’t take the responsibility of planning worship lightly. I am aware of the power of worship planners to manipulate the emotions of participants and I want no part of such manipulation. At the same time, I know that our emotions are a part of who we are and that ignoring emotion can result in bringing less than our full selves to worship. Maintaining a delicate balance requires careful thought. I know I don’t always get it right. I try to learn from my mistakes and make adjustments to respect the people who worship and the process of community.
That balance seems to bring us to a kind of mid-point between elaborate high church celebrations and austere low church gatherings. We have deep respect for liturgy while remaining open to innovation and creativity. I have studied the ancient prayers and time-honored words and employ them in our observances alongside new forms of language and expression. We sing some of the new songs, without distancing ourselves from the historic ones.
No single church can express the widest diversity of the Christian faith, and we know that the expression of faith in our generation requires our sister congregations as well as our own. We have no illusions that we are better or more important than other congregations. But we strive to be the best we are able at genuine worship that is appropriate to who we are.
In that effort we celebrate not just the saints who have gained official recognition, but all of the faithful people whose lives have touched ours. In our hearts and minds the communion of saints is vast and expansive.
Our particular strain of church history has often stood a bit to the so-called “low church” end of that spectrum. We haven’t gone in for too much in terms of statuary and vestment. On the other hand, we have an appreciation for good music and have collected valuable instruments and hired good musicians.
In our corner of the tradition All Saints Day is an optional festival. The lectionary of readings gives alternates for the day, with a set of readings for the observation of All Saints and another set for the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost in the season we call “ordinary.” Some of our congregations will observe All Saints day, others will not.
The tradition of All Saints observances in our congregation is not long standing. We have placed more emphasis on the holiday in recent years influenced, no doubt, by the ecumenical bible study in which I participate. As I discuss the readings with Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian and Episcopal colleagues, we also discuss the worship and practices of our congregations. One of my colleagues recently commented, “What better evidence of a good and gracious God than the people we get to know in the church?”
For many congregations All Saints has evolved into a kind of memorial day, when those who have died in the past year are remembered. In our congregation, we print the names of those who have died on Memorial weekend in May and, in recent years, we have adopted the practice of showing their pictures on All Saints Day.
We also sing. There are two beloved all saints hymns: “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” and “For All the Saints.” I’ve blogged about the former in other years, but I think that “For All the Saints” is sung even more often in our congregation.
The hymn, dating back to the late 19th century, has been sung to several different tunes, but in our congregation, the tune by Ralph Vaughn Williams, called Sine Nominee (“without name”), is associated with the hymn. It is common for our organist to play that tune as the first song of the postlude at funerals. We have associated that song not so much with the grief of loss as with the triumph of resurrection.
The song was composed as a processional, and probably fits well with a high church tradition. The text, written by an Anglican Bishop, William Waltham How, has eleven verses and often is sung in unison to enable choirs and church leaders to process while singing. The tune is nearly a march in structure and makes walking easy. The repeated Alleluias at the end of each verse brings a triumphant note to the song. There are verses celebrating Saints, Apostles, Soldiers, Evangelists, and Martyrs, as well as verses celebrating the communion of all who have served, verses describing God’s assistance of humans, and the struggles of this life, all capped by a glorious trinitarian formula: “Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost: Alleluia, Alleluia!”
It is a glorious hymn and we will be singing it this morning as well as hearing it sung as we show the pictures of those of our congregation who have died in the past year. It isn’t an easy moment for our congregation. Grief involves pain and brings tears to our eyes. We don’t take the loss of loved ones lightly. But worship isn’t always about choosing the easiest path.
In an adaptation of the celebrations of previous years, this year’s remembrance is embedded in the celebration of communion with special words to place our recollections in context of the life of our community. The words of the hymn remind us that we remain connected with those who have died:
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
I don’t take the responsibility of planning worship lightly. I am aware of the power of worship planners to manipulate the emotions of participants and I want no part of such manipulation. At the same time, I know that our emotions are a part of who we are and that ignoring emotion can result in bringing less than our full selves to worship. Maintaining a delicate balance requires careful thought. I know I don’t always get it right. I try to learn from my mistakes and make adjustments to respect the people who worship and the process of community.
That balance seems to bring us to a kind of mid-point between elaborate high church celebrations and austere low church gatherings. We have deep respect for liturgy while remaining open to innovation and creativity. I have studied the ancient prayers and time-honored words and employ them in our observances alongside new forms of language and expression. We sing some of the new songs, without distancing ourselves from the historic ones.
No single church can express the widest diversity of the Christian faith, and we know that the expression of faith in our generation requires our sister congregations as well as our own. We have no illusions that we are better or more important than other congregations. But we strive to be the best we are able at genuine worship that is appropriate to who we are.
In that effort we celebrate not just the saints who have gained official recognition, but all of the faithful people whose lives have touched ours. In our hearts and minds the communion of saints is vast and expansive.